


The Warden: A Dragon Age Fanfict

by Thoughtsstaindwithink



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thoughtsstaindwithink/pseuds/Thoughtsstaindwithink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the beginning of a fanfict based within the Dragon Age universe, following the story of Ashlynn Cousland as she transitions from being the last surviving member of the noble House Cousland to being one of the last survivors of the Grey Wardens. The plan is to follow Ashlynn through the entire story told through Origins and this chapter deals with her escaping from the Castle Cousland after it is besieged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warden: A Dragon Age Fanfict

1.

Have you ever had someone sacrifice their life for you and felt powerless to stop it? Or worse, had the power to save them and chose to run the other way?

My name is Ashlynn Cousland. I am the last surviving member of the noble House Cousland and that is because I did precisely that: I ran.

Sure, my father was near dead already. His stomach was bleeding so profusely that his tunic was stained a different color and he could barely kept himself propped up off the floor when we found him. And my mother – Maker bless her soul – she couldn’t bear to leave my father to die at the hands of traitors, not while she still had arrows left; not even when it meant asking me to run out the servant’s exit like a coward. They covered up my cowardice with giving me a new sense of purpose: saving my life, only so I could give it in service to the Grey Wardens.

I didn’t give the decision much thought, considering it was made for me. Staying ever true to the role of being my parents, they continued to make decisions for me, even upon their dying breaths. They died believing they set me on the correct course, the course that would not only do good in this world, but also give me the means, training and opportunity to gain the only thing I have sought since then: vengeance upon the House of Howe.

And, like many other times, somehow, my parents were right.

Which, now, I’m grateful for, as my list of persons upon which I want to kiss my blade through their throats has only grown since Arl Howe first graced it. But at the time, I didn’t believed it. No, at the time, I didn’t believe in anything anymore. I had been awoken by screams of torment and the rank stench of freshly exposed blood slipping through my open window. The barks of my war hound, Shadow, alerted me that I had not awoken to no mere nightmare: I was living in it, caught beneath the covers of my bed in nothing but my underclothes.

Dressing quick, I grabbed my pair of twin daggers and fastened them behind my back. Both my father, Bryce, and my brother, Fergus, were gifted warriors. They fought at the forefront of the battlefield. Tactics and strategy were their strength and I learned a good deal from both of them. And while I favored a crossbow to the traditional bow my mother, Eleanor, used, my skills did not match any of my family members. I was adept with the greatsword and I could hit a bullseye with a bow, but my niche was in stealth, with a pair of daggers equipped in both palms; the silent assassin, if you will. I didn’t need the grandeur or the prestige of the frontlines. I didn’t need the prowess or the protection of ranged weapons shot from up high on the battlements. No, what I needed were quick feet, a silent footstep, a friendly shadow and a target.

And the night Arl Howe decided to descend on Castle Cousland, picking a target was easier than breathing.

But finding him…well that was an entirely different story.

Instead, I found Oriana and Oren, my brother’s wife and son, slaughtered in the room across the hall. The foyer between Fergus’s room and mine was empty, devoid of any evidence of intrusion, save for those two lone corpses sprawled across the floor, kept company by the pools of blood that escaped from underneath them, staining the carpets they never intended to die upon.

I allowed Shadow to sniff them for a moment, hoping to catch their killer’s scent. Then, we could go hunting. I didn’t watch, instead staring into the foyer. It contained a silence that made the room feel stuffy, as if the castle walls were holding their breath in anticipation, the clangs and wails of battle echoing distantly from the courtyard outside. Silently, I dared to ask the impossible question: Members of my family were slaughtered in the room directly across from my own. Why was I spared while they were not? Or, worse, how could I sleep while such a crime was being committed in such close proximity to me?

Instead of trying to answer the question, I whistled stridently. Shadow turned, his muzzle brushing ever so slightly against Oriana’s hair as he turned to answer my call. I walked promptly out of the room, my hound on my heels. I didn’t bother to shut the door behind me as we walked out of the room, through the foyer and into the hallway.  
Besides, nothing could wash away the sight of the blood-stained prints Shadow trailed behind him.

I found my mother in the hallway not moments after. She was dressed for battle, same as I, her bow strung tightly across her chest, her quiver threatening to overflow. We didn’t waste time on pleasantries or explanations. “Where’s father?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been searching for him, but to no avail. Where are—”

“It is best that we search for father, mother,” I said, as gently as I could. My arm was already resting on her shoulder as she tried to push past me. “At least he may still have a chance.”

My words stilled her. She looked straight into my eyes and though I saw a deep amount of sorrow reflected in her own, an even greater deal of resolve was also there. “I will kill them,” she said. “I will kill every last one of those bastards.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Shadow, waiting for us at the end of the hallway, barked loudly. Our heads turned as one to look at him. The lights flickered against the wall, the flames dancing, but I hardly noticed them, instead choosing to focus on the shadows that appeared on the wall; shadows of bodies. They were approaching.

“Quick, mother, where would father be?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t come to bed,” she said. “He’s either looking for us or defending the front gate. Last I knew, the gate still held and was being defended by the reserves that remained here, to march with your father in the morning instead of with Fergus earlier today.”

“And thank the Maker Fergus isn’t here to see this,” I said.

Shadow barked once more. The shadows were growing larger.

“Come, we will make for the Main Hall. With any luck, someone down there has seen your father.”

My mother turned and ran down a side corridor that led to a flight of stairs. I quickly followed her, not bothering to signal Shadow. I knew he would follow without being bid. Mabari hounds are smart and loyal, like that.

We made it down the stairs and through the atrium without disturbance. The closer we got to the Main Hall, the louder the battle became. We took a right, running through an eerily empty home, not a servant in sight. Though the signs of an enraging battle were everywhere: broken bricks protruding through the walls, piles of rubble accompanied by flames and even the occasional corpse bordered our every footfall. It was hard to believe that Howe’s forces had caused so much damage to a place that, only a few hours earlier, I spent bidding Fergus farewell. Traveling straight down another hallway, I had passed my mother, running slightly ahead of her and Shadow running directly at her heels. Between my hound and I, I had faith that we could protect her.

How foolishly naïve I had been.

I was jerked to the stop by my mother after we passed the opening to another descending hallway on our right. It lead to the Guard Post and our family Treasury. I turned back and looked at my mother, who was fumbling to pull something out of her pocket. After a moment, finally, she produced what she had been searching for: a key. “Quickly now, Ashlynn. Go to the Treasury and get our family sword.”

I scoffed. “Mother, is this truly the time to be harvesting family heirlooms?”

“If that means preventing the likes of Arl Howe greasing his nasty sausages around its hilt, then yes, I think this is the time. Hurry! We have to find your father.”

Taking the key, I ran down the steps, often skipping a step or two as to not slow down my progress. Shadow followed me as my mother waited at the top of the stairs. I unlocked the Treasury and found an oddly comforting that it appeared to be the only room not pillaged through and burned, besides my own. Running across the room, I ignored the statues of elaborately displayed armor and the portraits that represented our family tree, instead bee-lining towards a solitary chest that sat at the opposite end of the room, directly in the center against the wall. Falling to a kneel, I pulled open the chest that held all of our heirlooms, pieces of jewelry, weaponry and armor that were meant to be passed on to Fergus and I, once our parents passed on.

Did mother know that was exactly what she was doing when commanding me to go and get the sword, I wonder? Was she more aware of her own impending doom than I was?

Rummaging through the chest, I finally wrapped my fingers around the hilt and pulled upward, greeted by a familiar weight. Family heirloom in hand, I called out to Shadow and guided him back through the Treasury, out the door and back up the stairwell, not ashamed when I let out a heavy sigh of relief to find my mother still waiting for us at the top. Reaching her, we continued back down the hallway, towards the Chapel. But roughly midway down the hallway, we stopped at the door sitting to our left. Without preamble, I slammed the door open and ran straight into what was about to be the thick of the battle, welcomed by the cacophony of war.

Men I could hardly recognize flashed past me as they ran, some carrying planks of wood, others using just their bodies to mount a defense against our side of the main gate. On the other side, loud pounding echoed. The wood waned and cracked in response, signaling the forces of Arl Howe were about to invade fully. One of our commanders – a man whom I knew well, but at that moment, his name was the farthest thing from my mind – saw us as we entered and, after finishing his orders, rushed over to us.

“Her ladyship, my lady, I’m so glad to see you both alive and in one piece,” he said.

“Enough pleasantries,” my mother snapped quickly. “Have you seen my lord?”

“He was here, before he was wounded.”

“Wounded?”

“Yes, milady. He left in search of you both. He thought you might have made your way to the servant’s quarters.”

“Servant’s quarters?”

I caught on quicker. “The passage there. The chances of Howe’s men knowing it even exists are slim. If we want to get out of here still breathing, that is our best hope.”

“And pray your father is already there. Commander, can we assist in any way?”

A large cracking sounded. I looked over and saw a piece of wood go through the top of the gate and disappear back out as quickly as it appeared; a part of their battering ram, no doubt. I turned back to see the commander had placed a hand on my mother’s shoulder.

“Get out of here alive, Eleanor,” he said. “We will give you time to reach the servant’s quarters.” Another crack sounded throughout the room, echoing off the walls. “But I fear we cannot offer more than that.”

My mother put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You give more than enough. Maker be with you.”

“And Maker watch over you. Now go. Hurry!”

Letting my mother go first, I followed her out of the other side of the Main Hall. We heard a cry, “They’ve broken through!” right as the door closed behind us. I glanced back at the door and felt my mother’s hand grasp tightly around my wrist.

“Do not think. Run!”

Reluctant, I followed her, Shadow running at my side. We took a left and followed the hallway, before taking a sharp right towards the kitchen and the pantry. Running through them, we snuck into the servant’s quarters, only to find that somebody else was already there. We just as quickly discovered he posed us no threat.

Hardly. He could barely keep himself prompt up on his side and off the floor.

“Father,” I breathed.

Mother had already rushed over to him, the cry of, “Bryce,” barely beating her to him. He looked up at us as we entered and through all the pain he was desperately trying to shove and hide away, his relief was evident.

“Maker’s breath, you’re alive,” he whispered. “Thank all the gods, your both still alive.”

I followed my mother’s suit and knelt down beside my father. Shadow stayed guard by the door, pacing back and forth with his ears perked up.

“We all are,” my mother said, her voice shaky. “We’re together now. We can make it through this.”

“Not for much longer, I fear.”

My father looked down where one of his arms was wrapped around his side, clutched tightly. Though both my mother and I pretended it wasn’t obvious, there was too much blood and the stench was too foul for it to be otherwise. My father was dying. We were too late.

“Eleanor…” He glanced at my mother before flicking his eyes at me. “Pup…I need you both to leave, now. Take the servant’s exit, get out of here. The castle is overrun; all other exits surrounded. This way, you still have a chance.”

“And so do you,” my mother said. “There are mages nearby that we can call on. Their healing magic—”

My father coughed, whether at an inconvenient or apt time, I was in no mind to judge. “We did well together, Eleanor. Fergus and Ashlynn will make us proud, I know it.”

My mother had already started crying, but now she broke out into a soft sob. “I won’t leave you, Bryce.”

“If anyone wants to leave, the time is now,” another voice said from behind us.

I turned, quickly. I would have been surprised anyone could sneak up on my hound, but once I saw it was Duncan, I knew my surprise would have been wasted. It wasn’t everyday your castle housed a Grey Warden. Their talents were limitless – or so the stories went. Being able to sneak behind a Mabari war hound was surely amongst them.

I blinked. “Duncan. You stayed to help.”

“Not enough, I fear,” the Grey Warden said, looking down at my father. It felt like he had taken one of my daggers off my back and stabbed me straight through the heart with it. “Bryce, the Blight is coming. I cannot stay any longer.”

“Go, friend. You have already done more than was asked of you.”

“I can take your daughter with me. The arrangement I purposed earlier still stands.”

I glanced sharply at the Warden. “Arrangement?”

“It is a life of honor, I’ll admit. Though I’m still not keen on it, I feel like there is more at work here than just my will and whim. You have my permission.”

“Bryce, are you sure?” Eleanor asked.

“Forgive my ignorance, but what fate has been decided on my behalf now?”

“The Blight is coming,” Duncan said, his tone ominous – though I had a feeling that was his natural candor. “The Grey Wardens need all the help they can get. I came to this castle seeking recruits. You were the one I had in mind.”

“You want me to join the Grey Wardens?”

“You are the obvious choice, yes,” he said.

I looked back at my parents, but they were not looking at me. My mother had her hands wrapped around my father’s forearm. My father looked paler than I had ever seen him. His breathing was slow, wispier. The discussion was taking a toll on him.

He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fine, I will go with you and join your order, if that is what you require,” I said, speaking quickly. “But we get my parents out of here and find my father a healer. Now.”

“Pup…there’s no time.”

I looked back at my father, preparing to plead reason or irrationality, whatever would get him to swallow his pride and allow Duncan to carry him out of there; or for me to drag him out, whichever he preferred. But as my mother looked over at me for the first time since we’d found my father, the resolve I saw in her eyes had hardened. But the sorrow had also returned. There was no more room for discussion. This was farewell.  
Duncan pulled me to my feet, gently. I let him.

“We must hurry,” he said.

“I will kill every bastard that walks through that door to give you time,” my mother promised. “But I cannot leave your father alone.”

I swallowed hard. “I understand.”

“We love you so, so much, Ashlynn,” my father said, causing my mother to nod enthusiastically in reply.

“Find Fergus, tell him of what has happened here. Make a good life for yourself with the Grey Wardens. We know you will do us proud.”

“I will find my brother,” I said. “And then we will have our vengeance.”

“Vengeance…” my mother whispered.

Duncan turned me to face him. “Vengeance can only be taken if you’re alive to seek it. Come.”

Without looking back, I followed Duncan out the secret passage, Shadow following me after my signal. I never turned around, never looked back to see what fate beheld my parents. My imagination gave me enough ideas already.

I followed Duncan through the nooks of the castle until we finally reached the outskirts of it. Flames poured out into the night sky and stained the stars with smoke. Screams and shouts still called from all directions and only Duncan’s prodding kept me moving forward, instead of turning towards the main gate with a bloodlust-driven fury that only Arl Howe’s head on a spike could sate. Eventually, we made it across the plain and into the woods, where Duncan’s horse and wagon were stored, almost as if he anticipated the attack. But as we finally reached the woods, my brain, heart and body were too tired to conjure up any more traitorous schemes. Instead, I followed Duncan’s lead, climbing into the back of the wagon as he clambered into the front. Shadow jumped up beside me and quickly curled his body up next to mine as I laid down against the wood. I listened to the Grey Warden as he explained he had been searching for the past few weeks for recruits, scourging through the countryside for able-bodied and –minded men and women to join their ranks and fight the Blight; hence the wagon.

I fell asleep to the sound of his voice almost instantly, only scarcely aware of how unfruitful his search had been, me being the only occupant of the wagon and Duncan informing me we were now headed to go meet the King at Ostagar, where the battle against the Darkspawn would take place. I also failed to notice that I had unconsciously gripped the Sword of House Cousland tightly across my chest before I feel asleep, my fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt.


End file.
